I Don't Like Ice
by Insanity with Cheese
Summary: Anya tries to convince Razzie over here to go ice skating. Considering how she's the one who sent him to his watery grave when she was about eight, he's not too fond of that idea.


_"What kind of respectable Russian man doesn't know how to ice skate?" Anya pinched Rasputin's cheeks and stretched them out as far as she could. She tried to force him to smile, but his face was permanently twisted into a bitter scowl.  
"I know how to ice skate!" Rasputin protested, slapping her small, young hands away from his aging face.  
"Then why won't you come with me?" Anya held onto his robes like an old beggar, giving an unhappy pout with watery eyes. He knew she wasn't actually sad, she was just a spoiled little princess who was used to getting whatever she wanted with her large brown puppy eyes.  
"I don't like ice." Rasputin swerved away from Anastasia and faced the window. He crossed his arms and glanced down at the scenery below. It was odd. His castle was so dark, dank and grim, but right at his front door lay a beautiful blanket of Russian snow. He usually hated the cold clutches of a Russian countryside, but now, it was so peaceful. The ground was no longer covered in mud and tar, but a pure sheet that revealed no footprints, yet. Snow was delicately sprinkled on the Siberian Larch trees, looking like trees decorated just in time for Christmas. The snow strongly contrasted against the castle; it looked more like an enchanted forest just begging to be explored. However, the center of this innocent world lay a black, old castle, like the nation's pulsing heart. Rasputin felt angry, again.  
"Come on, Razzie! Why don't you like ice?"  
Rasputin turned around and flashed her a look.  
"...oh, right." Anastasia turned bright red. Rasputin would've chucked and teased her for it if he wasn't so set on being angry. "I'm sorry, darling...the beginning years of my life were wiped clean!"  
Rasputin hastily shoved off snow from his cloak. He had bought in in Mongolia. Now THERE'S a country that knew how to have a proper invasion!  
The young woman held the mad monk from behind. Rasputin was thankful that she did, for his eyes immediately rose and his mouth was held agape. It was as if he brain had shut down in just a second, and he felt the icy waters of the past just melt away.  
Then he remembered that it was Anastasia that kicked him and sent him to a watery grave. Oh, yeah. Back to being angry, again.  
"I don't care how sorry you are! Besides, why would a dark, strong magician like me stoop to such a low point and go...ice skating?"_

Anya grinned from ear to ear. For some reason, she absolutely loved it when he was so grumpy like this. It made her feel ten times warmer when she drew him out of his slum and into her arms. "Because you love me."  
"Oh?" Rasputin snorted. He was still glaring out the window, desperately searching for something to hate outside. "Did I say that sober? And not climaxing?"  
Anastasia giggled and pinched his cheek, again. "You are such a stubborn mule."  
Rasputin's arms were still folded. He was intensely glaring at this miserable little girl who absolutely ruined his life. If it wasn't for this girl, this stupid, naïve child, he would be ruling Russia with an iron fist. He could take his pick of any woman he ever wanted, and he wouldn't be horrified every time the water in his bath was too cold. Now the little brat thought she could mock him and pinch his cheek patronizingly? He could've smacked her and shown her some proper manners!  
"Thanks, Grandmamma." he instead replied. Maybe next time.

Anastasia peered out the window, squinting at the scenery in front of her. She held onto the railing, but she still was precariously close to the edge of the window. A simple push could've just sent her tumbling to the snow. He wouldn't have actually let her fall, it was to just teach her a lesson about being too trusting.  
"What is so interesting out there that you feel the need to look at that than me?" Anya nuzzled his chest with her cheek, trying to burrow his way into his empty breastbone and take a long nap inside of him, protected from the elements. Rasputin couldn't move.  
"Please, Gregory? Won't you join me? We could even get hot chocolate and gingerbread cookies. I'll save the bats for you." She flashed Rasputin a killer smile. She knew she was going to get what she wanted. Must...resist...stupid...request.  
"No."  
"Please?"  
"No."  
"Pleeeease?"  
"Are you deaf, your highness? What did I just say?"  
Anastasia's sweet smile quickly turned sinister. He would've been proud, as it looked just like his own.  
"That I would have to teach you how to state-"  
"I KNOW HOW TO STATE, I JUST DON'T WANT TO!"  
Anastasia put a finger on his lips. He was silence immediately, but completely against his own will.  
"And I'll get to hold onto your love handles in order to keep you standing."  
Rasputin's facial features relaxed. He was defeated. He knew it, she knew it, they both knew it. Rasputin sighed deeply, releasing all the air that should've been used towards this insolent little wench.  
"Who's the stubborn mule, here, my darling Anya?"  
Anya folded her hands behind her back and swung side to side. "It's still you, Grouchy Grigori!" She tapped his extraordinarily long nose. He took hold of her hand before she could pull it away. He sighed again, in pure disgust. "Alright."  
"YAAAAAAAAAY!" Anastasia swerved her arms around his gaunt neck and kissed his thin, grimy cheek several times. You think he just pulled her away from the pits of Limbo. Each kiss gave out a forced giggle from him, and soon he was laughing profusely. He cursed himself. Anya held onto his excessively long fingers and led him to the front entrance. "You still need to trim your nails, dear. Your poor hands are so dry and chipped, and with these nails, you'll never find gloves that fit you!"  
Rasputin was tuning out. He was simply amazed that she was holding his hand with such care.

The ice skating rink wasn't as obnoxiously loud as he thought it was going to be. It was later in the day, and there were more young adults than children. The sun was just about to finally go out, and it left the sky with just minor pink and purple streaks. For a moment, Rasputin realized had had completely forgotten what the color pink looked like. His brain was set on fire from the complete shock of being able to process another color, but it quickly died down. He almost yelled out from the immediate headache, but he found himself shivering instead. He had just completely blocked the color from his mind, and after seeing it again for the first time in ten years, he almost felt terrified. How long had he been from reality?

Anastasia tugged on his arm a few times, and he suddenly remembered why he was even here. "You're not trying to bail out on me, are you?"  
Rasputin blinked. Oh yeah. They were going ice-skating. Like a bunch of drunken idiots.  
"Oh, no..." He glanced around. Under their hoods, everybody just passed the pair like they were everyday people. "I was just wondering how people would react if we revealed ourselves and I kissed you, right here, right now."  
"I have a feeling you would be shot dead. By me. Now come on! No backing out now, Razzie-Wazzie!"  
What.  
What did she call him?  
Did she really call him that?  
Why did she call him that.  
Did she want to completely drain him of all credibility?  
Or was it to stop him from revealing his true self?  
Why? Just, why?

Rasputin shuffled along the people, trying desperately not to be seen. "Uh...two skates, please. One large for men, one small for women." He said that rather curtly, and he tried to disguise his voice. He fumbled around his cloak for some money and practically threw the coins in the poor teenager's face. "Thankyoumerrychristmas."

"Here, darling! Let me put your skates on!" Anya bobbed up and down on the bench, biting her lip. She could've squealed and screamed like a stupid child in desperate need of a lobotomy without anesthesia.  
"Wha?" Rasputin glanced at her for a second. Before he could properly process her question, she knelt and immediately started tying his ice skates. Hers were small and white, like a snowball rolling down a hill. His, however, were worn like a jackal puppy chewing them up each night. He watched as Anya's fingers intertwined with the rubbery, worn laces. She was putting too much care into tying his laces, while she never used this much skill for her own. Was she actually trying to impress him based on the way she tied shoes?  
...it somehow worked.

Anya stood up and brushed off the snow from her long, golden dress. He found himself reaching out for a second and helping her brush off anything she may have missed. She flashed him a smile of appreciation. He couldn't see much of her face, but he was instantly melted by her smile. Without really noticing, he found himself brushing up against somewhere a little too high. She squealed and clutched her abdomen, shaking her head at him. He could've claimed it was an accident all he wanted, but she would never believe him.

Once she thought it was safe to come out, again, she reached out her hand to pull him up to his feet. Then, it hit him. How do you walk in ice skates?  
He couldn't move.  
He wouldn't move.  
No.  
No.  
No.

Anastasia, tugged on his sleeve, but this time she couldn't pull him back to reality. He wanted to pull her close to him and clutch onto her for dear life, but he feared that the slightest move would send him tumbling.  
"What's the matter? Am I so beautiful that you have no words left?" She posed like a supermodel and fluffed her hair. "Or...did I tie your shoes too tightly?"  
Rasputin turned bright red. "No...I just...I don't know...how to...walk..."  
Anya sighed, completely relieved. "Oh, that's really simple. Lift your feet higher than you normally would've when walking."  
Rasputin gulped. Feebly, he stretched out his arm. He felt like he was going through Rigor Mortis all over again. The young girl blinked. It wasn't like Rasputin to actually show fear, let alone weakness. Her smile faded. He was really scared.  
She felt overwhelmingly guilty. She remembered kicking him right in the face and sending him tumbling to a watery grave, right in front of her eyes. Then again...she was nothing more but a terrified child trying to flee as fast as she could from her own people. She didn't mean it, and she was sorry for it.  
She gently took hold of his outstretched hand and squeezed it. Rasputin took sudden breath, and peered up at Anya. She was smiling right at him, and she wouldn't let him fall. He took hold of her other hand, and looked at her right in the eyes. They glowed when they met his.  
He took a small gasp, like he was gently shocked after taking off his sweater too fast. The spark told him to take a step. He swallowed again, but took that step. Anastasia took a step back, and her grin somehow became wider. "That's it!"  
He snickered, and took a few more tentative steps. He almost fell to the ground about three times, but Anastasia always caught him. From what seemed like and eternity, they finally reached the frozen pond. This terrified him further.

"Uhm...that ice isn't going to break, will it?" He almost hid behind Anastasia. She felt guilty all over, again.  
"Look, Grigori, I see that this whole thing is causing you to go crazy...why don't we just call the whole thing off and..."  
"No, no, no! I said we would ice skate, so we're ice-skating! It's just that I don't want to drown. Again. That's all."  
Anya held his hand, again. He desperately needed gloves. "There has been a hundred people on this pond in just one afternoon alone. Not even a fracture. Besides..." she turned to face him. "...I'll hold onto your hand as tight as I can. If you fall down, I'll be down with you." she then kissed his rubbery, rotting hand. It was covered in liver spots, he was chewing the sides of his fingers, and his nails could've easily split her in half. But she loved his hands. She loved him.  
He was glad she couldn't see his face.

Anastasia took a bold step onto the ice and pulled Grigori on with her. He instantly started to slip, and memories of drowning with no one so much as glancing at him rushed through his mind. He saw an eight-year-old scream and kick him right on the nose as hard as she could. Now, he looked up, and saw the same little girl trying to help him stand. She grabbed onto his waist, just like she said she would, and she started skating backwards. He immediately returned the favor and held onto her back for dear life.  
"Move your feet! I thought you said you knew how to skate!" she teased. He felt his heart beat rapidly pick up the pace, and so did hers. However, hers was...different.  
He hesitantly shuffled his feet. He dared to look down at the ice, no deathly cracks. Instead, he let his feet sync with the way hers were moving. Once he found a good rhythm, he looked back up at her, again. She kissed him on the cheek, again, and in that moment, all of his fears just melted away. He grinned maliciously, and tried to carry her.

Anastasia squealed, again, but she let him pick her up and twirl. "No, no! We're going to slip!" she shouted.  
"I thought you knew how to skate!" He retorted, shouting as loud as he could.  
"I do! Just...put me down, please!"  
"Don't worry...if you fall, I'll be with you!"

The two skated for hours. They chased after each other. Rasputin tried one too many times to push Anastasia. Sometimes they just held hands and slowly skated, trying to see who could be quiet for the longest. Other times either of them tried to impress the other by doing a move they saw at the Olympics, only to end up falling. Neither one of them could do any tricks. Neither one of them could stop smiling.  
"I'm really glad you convinced me to do this, Lolita."  
Anastasia's mouth popped open. "What did you call me?"  
"Nothing, dearie."  
They both snickered at each other, and they kissed. They were both exhausted, but now they wanted to skate all night.  
"Hey, hey. You're not the one who has to deal with this all the time." Rasputin glanced up towards the sky and found a little white bat floating just above his head. "Bartok? When did you get here?"  
"Just recently. After having the castle to myself for about five hours, I started getting a little worried you abandoned little old me!" Bartok pretended to pout, and snarled playfully at Anastasia.  
"Forget about YOU, Bartie? Never!" She patted the little bat's head, and he blushed. "I take it you had a good time?" Bartok flew over to Rasputin's shoulder and got comfortable.

Rasputin immediately fell through the ice. Anastasia, holding his hand, sunk as fast as he did. People yelled out in shock, and almost as soon as their heads were completely submerged in water, a nice young man helped them out.

"Sir! Ma'am! Are you alright?"

Their hoods were drawn all the way back, and being able to see clearly, Anastasia saw Dimitri looking right at her.  
Dimitri gasped.  
The crowd gasped.  
Everyone was silent.

"Look, it's Anastasia!"  
"And the Mad Monk, Rasputin!"  
"Wait...didn't I just see those two kiss about a minute ago?"

Rasputin pulled Anastasia in, and he wore that grim, bitter face, again. She was wearing it, too.  
"You know, I really hate ice."  
"Yeah, me too."  
Rasputin waved his reliquary in the air, and in a flash, the two disappeared.


End file.
